Damned
by CarlitosLover
Summary: "Do what you feel in your heart to be right, for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't." Drarry one-shot. Angst!Draco, an adorable story, that brings our two favorite people together.


**Hey! So this is a new story I just threw together. I saw this quote and thought that it fit a certain character and decided to make it a story, the first part is sorta taken from a different book, but I thought it fit him well. Hope you enjoy this Drarry one-shot!**

**I know the first part is Cassandra Clares from City of Bones, I am simply borrowing it, because it just adds to it. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP characters. Damn it.**

* * *

"Do what you feel in your heart to be right, for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't." -Eleanor Roosevelt

Story of my life. Ever since I was born into this cruel bleak world I have been damned. Never being able to have what I want, do what I want, say what I want, feel what I want. I was taught to be tolerant, to ignore my feelings.

When the I was six years old, my father gave me a falcon to train. Falcons are raptors – killing birds, my father told me. The falcon didn't like me, and I didn't like it, either. Its sharp beak made me nervous, and its bright yellow eyes always seemed to be watching me. It would slash at me with it's beak and talons whenever I came near: for weeks my wrists and hands were always bleeding. I didn't know it at the time, and why would I; I was six, but my father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus was nearly impossible to tame. But I tried, because my father told me to make the falcon obedient, and I wanted to please my father. I stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because a tired bird was meant to be easier to tame. I learned the equipment: the jesses, the hood, the braille, the leash that bound the bird to my wrist. I was meant to keep the falcon blind, but I couldn't bring himself to do it – instead I tried to sit where the bird could see me as I touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust me. I fed it from my hand, and at first it would not eat. Later, it ate so savagely that its beak cut the skin of my palm. But I was glad, because it was progress, and because I wanted the bird to know me, even if the bird had to consume my blood to make that happen. I began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for the speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and come to my wrist, I nearly shouted with delight Sometimes the bird would hop to my shoulder and put its beak in my hair.

I knew my falcon loved me, and when I was certain it was not just tamed but perfectly tamed, I went to my father and showed him what I had done, expecting him to be proud. Instead my father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands and broke its neck.

"I told you to make it obedient," my father said, and dropped the falcon's lifeless body to the ground. "Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed; it was broken."

Later, when my father left me, I cried over my pet, until eventually my father sent a servant to take the body of the bird away and bury it. I never cried again, and I never forgot what I learned: to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed.

So when I met him my first year at Hogwarts, I was scared out of my mind. He was in Madam Malkin's shop, getting fitted for robes, just as I was. He looked . . . perfect. I didn't know what to think. I just remembered what my father always told me, though I did try to be nice. It only turned out to backfire on me when he rejected my hand in friendship that same day. It hurt, but I also knew it was for the better, if my father found out, or if it evolved anymore I would be destroyed, in every sense of the word. So I compensate by being the rudest person he has ever met. Maybe if he hates me and believes I hate him as well, I will start to believe it.

Then he has to go and be a bloody hero every single year and do something extraordinary that makes me think of him again. Make me worry about him, make sure he's alright. That's where my family training comes in handy. Malfoy's don't show emotions, Malfoy's don't feel. Bullshit. I feel, I need to feel, or I would explode.

My second year then came around and the Chamber has been opened and everyone was accusing Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin. Now that couldn't possibly be true. I know he wasn't. Then he had the audacity to come into the Slytherin common room disguised as Crabbe and Goyle with that Weasley. Of course I knew it was him, what other wizard in the entire school wears glasses besides him? And those particular ones, finding Goyle wearing those was like him holding a sign saying it was him. Then I had to berate myself for knowing his glasses. My heart actually stopped beating when I watched him get hit with that bludger during Quidditch and fall to the ground. From the air I watched as Lockhart made his bones disappear and grabbed my wand to hex that insufferable toad, but the appalling looks I got from my teammates stopped me. I actually felt bad when his best friend got petrified because I knew from that moment he was going to find the thing and kill it, and he was incredibly hurting to lose his friend like that. I could see it in his eyes. But then damn it, I was watching him again. So I made fun of him for it. The Basilisk was dead and my father kept ranting about how he freed Dobby and how Dobby stopped him from killing him. I almost kissed Dobby, when he came back to me. Dobby and I were really close, he was the only one I felt that I could talk to, so he came back to me. I flipped out, when Dobby told me that he told him about how he heard great things from him. I didn't talk to Dobby for a week, I told him to warn him about the dangers of coming back to school not to basically throw out all my hard tryings to get the boy to think I hate him.

Third year was fine, with the exception of me worrying about Black and him trying to kill him, until he had to act all high and mighty in Care of Magical Creatures and go and pet that hippogriff, then look back and smirk at me. He should of known that would set me off and I would have to top him, only that damn horse bird had to attack me, my arm almost fell off. But I'm sure I handled it with the highest of pure-blooded nature. Everyone else might say differently, but I took it all in stride. Towards the end of the year I heard he fought off about a hundred Dementors to save Black. I don't know why he would do that if Black had been trying to kill him for so many years, must be the Hero Complex he takes pride in. How was he even able to summon a Patronus? That is a seventh year spell. But, of course, being Dumbledore's favorite has it's perks, he probably hired him a private tutor. At least that year Voldemort wasn't involved.

Fourth year would be the second scariest experience I've had with him. He was put in the Triwizard Tournament and I thought he didn't like all the attention he got. Watching him I could tell he didn't like how the girls fawned all over him, but it was probably because the Weasley girl stopped. I never thought my heart could stop as many times as it did during the entire tournament. When I couldn't see him anymore after he flew off on his broomstick with the dragon chasing him, when he was the last one to come up from the lake, even when I saw the red light signal from the maze. I thought it was him, but then he came back with Diggory dead in his hands and he was crying his eyes out. I felt my knees give out and Blaise had to forcibly drag me back into the Slytherin dungeons to keep me from ran towards him and pull him into a tight hug and never let him go. Nobody believed his ridiculous claims about Voldemort returning, I really hoped not, but I know he has, my father being who he is and all. That summer my father told me about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that would be attending Hogwarts next year and told me I had to get on her good side, that she was essential to the Dark Lord rising into power, she was on our side. No, their side. I was never on his side. Not since the day I met him. Though I chalk this whole thing up to caring for him, I do not love him. To love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be the one destroyed.

So during Fifth year that is exactly what I did. I taunted him, I sat on Umbridge's side. The Inquisitorial Squad was the stupidest thing I ever joined. Watching him get tortured and reprimanded every second that my housemates caught him doing that I decided to take credit for, though I refused to participate in most of them. Then she just disappeared, and so did he and his friends. It wasn't until after he returned did I hear about it. My mother never sent me a letter, she stopped communication with me. My father was arrested for Death Eater activities, my aunt killed Black, and Voldemort tried attacking him, but Dumbledore came and stopped him. I never felt so grateful towards that old man then I did that night. It was almost as if I could feel the anguish that rolled off of him. My insides ached, though I knew I couldn't do anything about it. This summer that followed, I thought would be my big break to finally escape whatever was happening with me towards him. My father was sentenced to Azkaban, and the Dark Lord forced me to take the mark and avenge him. If I didn't do his task he would kill me and my family. I couldn't let that happen, I was forced, my back was against the wall, this was my only way out, and the only way for him to totally hate me with all of his being. The Dark Lord looks scary, and I really didn't want to follow him, understand that. I feared him.

This year tops my lists as the most horrible. At first I did hate him, I blamed him for throwing my father in Azkaban, as a result making me take the Dark Mark for my fathers mistake, so I did mean to hurt him, show him what he's done to me, but when I found myself in the notorious Moaning Myrtle bathroom she helped me. She tried to convince me about my childhood and all the lessons I was taught was wrong. I could relate to her, and she could relate to me. It is sad to say that my only true friend was a ghost, Myrtle no less? I visited her almost every day, I withdrew from my somewhat friends of Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy. I couldn't handle it, I tried weakly to fulfill the orders of the Dark Lord. I didn't mean to throw the first curse at him, I just didn't want him to see me cry, knowing him he would try to help. I couldn't have that. Though what he did killed me inside, he tried to kill me. I know I can't take back everything I've done over the years, but did it really equal out to him trying to kill me? My curses weren't even deadly, it was mainly just Petrificus Totalus, just to stop him. The relief I felt when it turned out I didn't even have to kill the old man was amazing, I love my Godfather to death. He would do anything to protect those who are his family, I know that. He saved me from a lot of trouble. If it wasn't for how he charged at us by Hagrid's hut, I thought my part would go unnoticed. I could never be as lucky. The world was against me. I guess karma really is a bitch.

I spent my seventh year sulking, he wasn't at school, and I was stuck with everyone that hated me, and Snape as a Headmaster. It wasn't Snape that I minded though, I hated the Carrows, how they tortured students if they didn't do as they wanted. I never wanted to be apart of this whole mess, and I feel like I'm losing myself every time I watch those siblings beat up a student. It's mostly Neville though, his Gryffindor bravado refused to do what they were told. I never would of Crucio'd first years if I knew I wouldn't be on the Dark Lord's shit list. I did manage to use my Slytherin-ness to steal a radio from a member of that club I had to destroy from fifth year, and listen to it, after a while I was able to decipher the codes. I needed to know what he was doing and where he was, though they didn't really specify, because he wasn't at school, nor did he really have contact with anyone inside school. Though I would of thought he would of kept in contact with his girl weasel. But I force that thought out of my head, it hurts more than any curse someone could throw at me. It wasn't until Easter that I saw him again. I was on my Easter holiday, hanging around the most evil people in the world...my family, when he was brought here. The way he looked at me, pleading with me, it was his face that through me and before I could shake that thought, I found myself asking it out loud. It was meant for him I believe, but I knew he couldn't answer that. I knew my caring for him would over power the fear I have for the Dark Lord, I knew I wasn't going to turn him in. But having to stand back and watch his friend be tortured, broke me again, I knew how he would feel towards that, I could feel it for him. Then when he ran towards me to grab the wands in my hands I felt like crying, I knew I was losing it, and he ran away with my wand in his hand, as well as the others, and Dobby Disapparated them. As soon as they left everything fell apart. Aunt Bella went on a rampage, and my mother led me away from it and into my room, and I fell apart. I believe my mother thought it was only because I was going to get the wrath of the Dark Lord, but no I was crying because he was safe, I was crying because I got to see him again, I was crying because he left again. I wish I could talk to my mom, but I just couldn't. She is telling me that crying is weakness and I need to stop, but I just can't. I didn't hear about him again until he arrived at Hogwarts and I knew I had to see him again, so I did what I thought was the only thing possible, confronted him, but with Crabbe and Goyle, I knew he was upset and if I went alone, him, Granger, and Weasley would kill me. What started out as harmless ended in disaster, Crabbe set the bloody place on fire. I don't believe I've ever been so scared, would he really leave me here to die? It seems that way as he was flying towards the door. Then suddenly he turned around, and my heart fluttered. As he lifted me up I wrapped my arms around his waist tightly, I never wanted to let go. The sparks felt amazing and I wished I could feel that forever, but as soon as he got me, I was off, fallen to the ground. And his face crinkled in pain. I moved closer towards him in the slightest to try and help him, and I saw Granger give me the oddest expression until I realized what I was doing and I took off running down the hall. The next time I saw him, he was dead. I died along with him. He wasn't really dead though, just dead to Voldemort, who ended up dying later.

That wasn't the last day I saw him however, he showed up at my trials the next year, and testified that I should not be sent to Azkaban. He never once looked at me, which stung, but I couldn't blame him, my work was done. He hated me, and though Myrtle convinced me that my father was wrong, it is still hard to come back from that. Though, I only want him. Only him for the rest of my life, and he hates me. He can't even look at me, and I did that. I made him that way, I showed him hatred every single year that I knew him. I wouldn't blame him, though as much as he had thrown at me, I loved him. Simple as that. I accepted it at the trial, I loved him. Curse the mighty Slytherin Merlin.

Maybe that's why I was shocked to see him four years later, in a bar that I come to every night to get drunk out of my mind for being alone, sitting right next to me, even though the entire bar was empty. I guess shocked is an understatement, I was flabbergasted, astounded. Maybe this was fate, maybe they are giving me a second chance at this whole thing.

"I'm sorry," I spoke first. I knew he wasn't going to. He tensed, I think in shock, and turned to look at me. Really look at me, for the first time ever. But I couldn't handle it, I turned my face towards my glass of fire whiskey, my cheeks burning, from the drink or how he looked at me, I don't know.

"W-what?" his angelic voice spoke, the first time I heard it in four years. My icy heart was melting again.

"I said I'm sorry," I mumbled, "for everything, for how I treated you, how I was a Death Eater, everything." I downed my half-full glass of firewhiskey and gestured for Tom to fill it up again. I knew I caught him by surprise, he probably never expected to even talk to me, from the way he was spluttering and searching for words.

"Wow, the great and wonderful Malfoy apologizing, I never thought I'd see the day." I looked up at him, and was greeted with the most beautiful smile. "I'm sorry, too, Draco." My cheeks flushed even redder and I felt tingles in my insides from the use of my first name. "I dished out as much as you served. I'm also sorry about your mother. She did help me out, I did go out a put flowers on the grave. I was gonna go to the funeral, but I believed I wasn't welcome."

"You're always welcome, Harry."

He looked at me confused, and I was in complete shock about what I said that I finished my drink, grabbed my coat and turned to leave as fast as I could, though when you've had five glasses of firewhiskey it get's kind of hard, as I stumbled on my feet and grabbed my head to keep it from spinning. Arms caught me around the waist as I Disapparated, and landed in a heap on my living room floor, with a body on top of mine.

"Dammit, Harry, I didn't know you were going to catch me." I looked up at him, his face completely red, which was incredibly cute, and he looked down at our position and slightly shifted himself, causing our groins to rub against each other. I gasped and closed my eyes. That felt amazing, I couldn't believe that happened, and he's still on top of me! Maybe he is drunk, no he only had one glass.

"Draco?" Harry whispered, and I mumbled an inaudible response. He shifted again, the friction was just too great that I moaned. I seriously moaned, what the hell. I reached up, grabbed his hips and pushed him flush against me, he made an adorable 'eep' and then I sealed his lips with mine. I felt him freeze, but I just kept my eyes shut and enjoyed the sensation of the tingles that this was giving me. Then I felt him move, and he started parting my mouth with his. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. His teeth sank down on my bottom lip and my hips thrusted upwards into his and he moaned. It was the most errotic and sexiest sound I have ever heard in my life. And as soon as our tongues touched, he pulled away to look at me. "Is this because you are drunk?" He whispered.

"I'm not drunk," I tried to explain, and really I wasn't, that much. Okay, maybe I was, but I wanted this since I met him!

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of England," he scoffed. Then shook his head, "oh well, I don't care, I've wanted this since fourth year, where is your room?" Fourth year?! He's wanted me sinced fourth year?! And he's telling me this now?! I guess I don't blame him, I was a bit of a git throughout the years, and I really didn't want him to have anything for me.

All thoughts left my head as soon as he grabbed my arm and pulled me up only to lie me back down on the couch. "Well if you aren't going to tell me, the couch will have to do." I still just stared at him, completely happy, and convinced I was dreaming.

But when I woke up later on that couch, Harry was still in my arms, naked, and smiling. Maybe I'm not damned after all.

* * *

**Something I just threw together, from a quote I saw. Review please!**


End file.
